


Sugar Rush Expansion: Daddy Turbo

by animatedrose



Series: Sugar Rush: Expansion [1]
Category: Wreck-It Ralph (Movies)
Genre: Egg Laying, Explosions, Gen, Insect biology, King Candy lives, Massacre, Narcissism, Nesting, Takes place after the first movie, Turbo lives, cuteness, from my old fanfiction.net account, hunger, old, shenanigans of babies, the cybugs survive, unlikely to be continued, various candy beasts and obstacles
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-12
Updated: 2020-06-12
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:15:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24672181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/animatedrose/pseuds/animatedrose
Summary: A little bit of insight on Turbo in my old forum RP, Sugar Rush: Expansion. How did cybrid Turbo feel, laying little cy-bug eggs? What about the resulting babies?
Series: Sugar Rush: Expansion [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1783885
Kudos: 10





	1. Daddy Turbo

It had been barely a day since he somehow regenerated, but Turbo only had one thought in his head—he was starving.

_Probably part of the cy-bug coding,_ the racer thought as he stalked through the candy cane trees. _All these things do is eat, kill, and breed. Since I’m half cy-bug—I think—it’s no surprise I’m feeling the same hunger they do._

Turbo looked nearly identical to the form he had when he battled Ralph atop Diet Cola Mountain. The only change was his head. He no longer bore King Candy’s face. His own gray skin, glowing yellow eyes, and signature white helmet with a red T on it was now in its place.

All for the better. With his cover blown, he didn’t really need to disguise himself as the jolly king anymore. Everybody knew his real identity now. King Candy was no longer needed.

Back to his main problem—hunger.

It wasn’t hard, sating his appetite. He was in a world full of candy, for mod’s sake! If that wasn’t a tip-off saying he was still in Sugar Rush, he didn’t know what was. At least he didn’t have to worry about dying of starvation anytime soon.

Turbo wasn’t a picky eater. He was forced to surrender that when he took over Sugar Rush. Candy had been all he’d eaten for the past several years.

He ate whatever he came across. Lollipops that bloomed from the ground like flowers, branches of candy cane from the trees, chunks of rock candy, marshmallow fluff, some overgrown gumdrops, a good few gallons of chocolate milk… Anything and everything vanished down his elongated neck and into his cavernous belly.

Funny how he wasn’t full yet…

Turbo wasn’t sure how long he ate for or even how much he wound up eating. All he knew was that it was getting dark out when he looked up. The whole day had been spent roaming and eating everything that he spotted. No candy people, though. No sign of life at all, actually.

_Good,_ Turbo thought sourly. _I don’t want that halitosis-ridden warthog finding me out here. Or, mod forbid, the glitch!_

He abandoned the candy cane forest, locating a small cave in the side of a mountain of fudge. Instead of curling up in the tiny burrow, he proceeded to dig straight down. The fudge ground stood no chance against his razor-sharp claws, cutting through it like a hot knife through butter. Sometimes he ate whatever fudge chunks he dislodged as he dug.

He _still_ wasn’t full yet…

He continued digging until the chocolate gave out beneath him, revealing a massive cavern. The heavy scent of cy-bug hit him, causing him to rear back and hiss. So _this_ was where the previous cy-bug had hidden! No wonder nobody had ever found it.

That is, until it was too late…

Shaking off the warning signals racing through his system, Turbo unfurled his wings and shot down into the cavern. Shallow stab and claw marks tore along the floor, proof of the other cy-bugs’ presence before their eventual destruction at Diet Cola Mountain. There were loads of crushed egg shells lying around, too.

He felt a shiver go up his spine. The breeding thing freaked him out a bit. He was a guy. Yet he was a cy-bug…thing…now. Did that mean he’d be having babies eventually?

_I hope not,_ Turbo thought, clearing away egg shells so he could curl up. _I’m not interested in either being a parent OR dealing with kids. Did enough of that as King Candy…_

Though he’d never say it aloud, being King Candy had been fun. After the first year or two, he’d nearly forgotten about TurboTime and Road Blasters. He began to fall into the silly nature of the sugary-sweet monarch, making stupid puns and racing without a care in the world. He’d even begun to let those brats into his heart…

Then the glitch had to spring up and cause trouble. After all the warnings and threats he’d sent her way, a trip to the fungeon included, she still tried to ruin his happiness. Then Ralph appeared with his stupid medal and everything went to hell.

Shaking those thoughts from his mind, the cybrid curled up on the chocolaty floor of the cavern and let himself drift to sleep. As he fell into sleep’s sweet embrace, he couldn’t help but think something was wrong. There was a strange nagging in the back of his mind.

Deciding to deal with it when he got up, Turbo fell asleep…

…and glowing blue eyes opened seconds later, the cybrid rising to his full height and wandering toward the far wall of the cavern.

.o.o.o.o.

Turbo awoke to his stomach growling at him. It made a grinding noise, like badly-oiled machinery. Then again, cy-bugs were mechanical insect-like viruses so it made sense. It didn’t help that every inch of him left stiff as a board. Was sleeping on the ground that bad?

Rising, he stretched until his long back snapped, filling him full of sweet relief. Skittering up on all four legs, the cybrid decided to answer his stomach’s call and flew back to the tunnel he had made in the cavern’s roof. Hopefully, nobody had seen the big hole at the base of one of the fudge mountains.

He spent most of the day eating, though he dared to creep around and try to pinpoint exactly where in Sugar Rush he was. No such luck. He had to be on a far corner of the map since he couldn’t hear the revving of karts on a track or the cheers from a crowd. Noises he longed to hear once again…

_Stop it, Turbo! You’re a cy-bug now! You can’t race anymore!_

Turbo reluctantly returned to feasting on all the innocent sweets around him. Not being able to race in his new form was quite depressing, even with his ability to fly. Flying could never compare to racing, though. It didn’t have the same thrill, the same excitement, the same rush of adrenaline, as racing did. It just wasn’t the same.

Shaking those depressing thoughts from his head, he finished his sugary buffet before heading back to his new lair. It was getting dark out again. His second day since regenerating and nobody had seen him yet. So far, so good…

He didn’t initially register that it wasn’t as dark in his new home as it was the previous night. He simply fell back on the idea that either his eyes had adjusted or that cy-bugs simply had better night vision. The fact that everything seemed to be tinged green further backed up the latter idea.

Curling up where he’d lain the previous night, hunger sated but his stomach still refusing to be full, Turbo went back to sleep. Maybe he’d make more progress tomorrow, actually attempt to find a track so he had a better idea of where he was. Better yet, he’d know where the glitch likely would be. He’d need to avoid being seen if he didn’t want to be deleted again. That hadn’t been fun the first time around.

Turbo was barely asleep for a minute before blue eyes snapped open once more. The large cybrid abandoned his chosen sleeping spot, instead heading toward the far wall of the cavern again.

Closer toward the strange green illumination…

.o.o.o.o.

Awaking to even more aches and pains and soreness, Turbo resolved to make himself a proper nest today. Marshmallows would probably do best. They were fluffy and soft, perfect nesting material. It might be hard to find enough to make a cybrid-sized nest but mod be damned if he was going to let all this pain and soreness continue each morning. It was making him more agitated than usual.

Agitation led to recklessness. Recklessness was the _last_ thing he needed right now.

He spent the entirety of the day eating and searching for marshmallows. He accidentally stuffed a few in his mouth before remembering that he needed them for a proper nest. He forced himself to make multiple trips down to the cavern, depositing armfuls of marshmallows onto his sleeping spot until he had a massive pile. After a bit of testing, some accidental thoughtless snacking on said marshmallows, a quick nap, and more trips to retrieve the fluffy treats, he finally had himself a monstrous nest that not only supported his weight but made sleeping comfy. No more aches and pains!

Since nest-making took up much of his day, he was forced to feast on sugar partway into the night to sate his hunger. Warning bells sounded at the thought that his stomach never seemed to get full but Turbo ignored it. It was probably a cy-bug thing. It wasn’t like it was hurting him either, so why bother worrying about it? He focused solely on eating until he was forced to waddle back to the cavern.

The cavern was gradually getting brighter, illuminated green by some unknown light source. Turbo pegged his cy-bug vision as the cause and went to sleep. Maybe he’d sleep in tomorrow as a reward to himself for making such a comfy nest.

Sleep came quickly for Turbo…

…while the cy-bug within woke up, searching out the light source eagerly in order to add to it.

.o.o.o.o.

“Okay, something is _seriously_ wrong with me,” Turbo muttered.

Though morning came without pain, the soreness was still there. Not to mention how tired he was. And how cranky he felt. He was tempted to sleep in but something was nagging him—the same thing from his first night in this cavern. Something was wrong…

Getting up from his nest, he wandered about the cavern in a daze. His stomach was growling again and he ate chunks of fudge to calm it. His legs were wobbly, making him stumble about. He left like he’d just crashed from a sugar high. Or just crashed in general. Maybe he did?

He wasn’t sure.

The green glow caught his attention. Funny, it seemed brighter along the far wall than anywhere else…

Exhaustion and curiosity got the better of him.

He headed over to the wall, following the strange green glow. Rounding a fudge boulder, he froze in his tracks when one of his legs touched something. The cybrid backed off, tails stuck straight up in terror. That fear became shock…then it became disgust…then he was uncertain how he felt.

In front of him, lining the entirety of the far wall, were a good thirty or forty cy-bug eggs. Round turquoise eggs with hexagon-shaped patterns on their shells. All lined up neatly in rows, as if specifically placed that way.

As if someone has laid one, moved a bit, laid another, and continued on that way…

“Oh mod, no!” Turbo groaned.

He was the only cy-bug…thing…in Sugar Rush right now. These eggs couldn’t belong to anyone _but_ him! And all the morning issues hadn’t been from sleeping on the floor. They were from laying eggs, probably done in his sleep.

Turbo felt like screaming like a little girl in disgust. He’d had _eggs_! He—a _male_ —had laid eggs! Did cy-bugs even _have_ genders?! Was his status as a male irrelevant now that he was part cy-bug?

“…Mod, why me?” Turbo complained.

.o.o.o.o.

It was a very weird sensation, laying an egg. Turbo had never been curious about women giving birth or egg laying. Ever. He _still_ wasn’t interested.

This only increased his desire to never be privy to such knowledge.

It had been two weeks since he had regenerated. A week and a half since he discovered that he was apparently having eggs. What were once thirty or forty eggs…had now become several hundred. All glowing green with hexagon-shaped patterns on their shells.

At least they kept the cavern well-lit.

But now Turbo was running into new problems. The glitch somehow knew he had regenerated. She and her little army of racers, the handyman and his soldier wife, and the halitosis-ridden warthog were slowly, but surely, searching all of Sugar Rush for him. It would only be a matter of time before he and his nest was discovered.

Parental instinct would force him to defend his eggs to the death, Turbo guessed. He couldn’t help but admit to feeling attached to the tiny objects. Whether he liked it or not, they were _his_. He was responsible for them.

Not to mention the glitching. It was rare but it happened. Turbo had quickly discovered that leaving Sugar Rush was a big, fat no-no. He was a glitch now, ironically. He couldn’t game-jump to escape his pursuers this time.

Not that he intended to run away.

He had worked long and hard to make Sugar Rush into his personal paradise. Regardless of all the trouble it would cause, he wanted that back. He wanted to race again. He wanted to be the best.

One way or another, he’d get into the code vault and fix this. He’d figure out what caused him to regenerate into this half cy-bug form. Maybe there was a way to turn back.

As for his eggs… Well, the cy-bugs seemed to obey him on Diet Cola Mountain. Maybe they’d obey him again here. They’d make good combat forces to wear down Ralph and the soldier woman from Hero’s Duty.

And once everything was fixed, he’d make that glitch pay for messing his plans up.


	2. Baby Cy-bugs!!

_Crack!_

_Crick crack!_

_Crackle crack!_

_Ka-crack!_

Turbo shifted, groaning in his sleep. Cy-bug instinct ordered him to get up immediately. Sadly, Turbo already knew why.

Small squeaks and whines sounded from nearby.

Turbo reluctantly got up, yawning. Getting to his feet, the cybrid lazily headed toward the far wall of the cavern. The whole place was lit up by the light coming from the hundreds of eggs he’d…laid. He was _still_ disgusted by that fact. He’d had _eggs_! That was unnatural!

For him as a male, at least.

More squeaks came from the far wall. Turbo approached, heading for the first batch he’d laid nearly two weeks ago. He could already see some of the eggs rocking from side to side, shells covered in cracks.

They were hatching.

“Great,” Turbo groaned tiredly. “First I lay eggs, now I get to be a parent. This is _so_ not turbo-tastic…”

.o.o.o.o.

Six eggs had hatched that day. Inside were tiny little bugs, metallic black with glowing green eyes and sides. Twin tails sprouted from their behinds like green strings.

And they wouldn’t leave him alone!

Not that he could fully blame them. They were babies. He was their…err…parent. They, naturally, wanted to be close to him for protection and such.

But their cuddliness was annoying. It brought back too many memories of being King Candy. Too many memories of the brats…

_Stop it, Turbo! This isn’t helping!_

Shaking off the thoughts, he lumbered back to his marshmallow nest for a peaceful nap.

Too bad the little bugs insisted on following him, snuggling against his belly, sides, and even climbing onto his back.

_Oh, I give up…_

.o.o.o.o.

Over the course of the next few days, he had nearly a hundred of the little buggers crawling around the cavern. Luckily, none of them could fly so losing track of them wasn’t an issue.

Too bad they’d proven to be master escape artists.

At least a dozen times, he’d go outside and find a few of his pint-sized offspring (he still felt uncomfortable using that word or any related to it) wandering around. He was fast to snatch them up and return them to the cavern. Sadly, he couldn’t figure out how they managed to scale the fudge walls in order to reach the tunnel on the roof that led to the surface.

The fact that they could get out unnoticed worried him. What if the glitch saw them? He’d have the soldier woman on his tail faster than you could say “turbo-tastic”. He wasn’t interested in being deleted again, thank you.

He was equally uninterested in seeing his…err…kids getting deleted either.

.o.o.o.o.

Turbo managed to find out how the little guys were escaping. While they were unable to fly, their climbing ability was superb. They could even dig their tiny legs into the ceiling and edge themselves along toward the tunnel entrance. They looked kind of like glowing spiders when they did that.

So the cybrid came up with a clever—not to mention sweet-tasting—solution.

Waking up extra early one morning, he went out and hunted down a pond of honey. It took forever to properly transport a large amount of it, but he did it. Upon returning to the cavern, he proceeded to slather the walls with the sticky golden liquid. His claws were extremely gummy afterward, but it would be worth it to keep the little buggers from giving him away to the glitch.

Best of all, honey-covered walls wouldn’t effect him in the slightest. He had wings to carry him up to the tunnel entrance. As long as the walls were honeyed, the tiny cy-bugs would be unable to reach the ceiling in order to get to the tunnel.

He knew his plan had been a success when he woke up a few hours later to hearing panicked squeaks. At least a dozen of the baby cy-bugs were stuck to the walls, unable to free their tiny legs from the goop. The rest had obediently returned to the marshmallow nest, quickly understanding what had happened.

Daddy was upset with them exploring.

“Turbo-tastic,” Turbo chuckled as he dutifully plucked the mischievous babies from the walls.

.o.o.o.o.

Vengeance was supposed to be sweet, right?

Not if you wake up to find your nest of marshmallows has been eaten by your hungry brats! They were salmon-colored, too!

The marshmallows, not the brats…but the brats who had eaten them were now also salmon-colored.

There were at least twenty or thirty of the little salmon buggers now. The rest were still metallic black with glowing green eyes, sides, and tails. The salmon ones now had red eyes, sides, and tails. They actually looked kind of cuter now…

_No! Don’t think that, Turbo! They just ate your nest! You’re mad at them, not admiring their color swap!_

It was pretty interesting, a cy-bug’s ability to become whatever it ate. The babies simply changed color and sometimes had strange things added to their thin armor plating. Turbo had a few color swaps but he generally looked the same as usual. Maybe because he was older, he could control that ability to an extent?

He wasn’t sure. And he wasn’t all that interested right now.

He had to go make a new marshmallow pile.

But before he left, a bit of vengeance was in order.

A loud barrage of panicked squeaks and cries echoed after the cybrid as he flew out into the roof tunnel. Turbo’s grin ate up at least half of his face. In the cavern below, every last baby cy-bug that had even a hint of salmon on its armor had been stuck to the honeyed walls. Call it punishment, if you will.

Turbo quite liked this new form of vengeance against his brats.

.o.o.o.o.

“What the _mod_ happened in here?!”

Turbo had finally found enough salmon-colored marshmallows to call a proper nest and was in the process of bringing them back to his lair. He had just made the first trip when he found the cavern floor covered in a thick layer of chocolate syrup. There was a small geyser of the stuff gushing from the ground, where a hole had been eaten in the fudge. The cavern was being _flooded_ with liquid chocolate!

It was obvious who the culprits were.

“BRATS!!!”

.o.o.o.o.

It had taken a solid hour to gather up every last one of his…err…kids and get them to higher ground. He was forced to tear into the wall of the cavern, carving out a makeshift den deep enough to handle his weight, the marshmallow nest, his mischievous brats, and the eggs he was _still_ laying!

_Seriously, don’t I have enough kids already?!_

To keep the little cy-bugs out of trouble while he painstakingly left to fetch the remains of his nest, he stuck every last one of the runty viruses to the walls of their new den before daring to leave. With each trip he made to fetch the marshmallows, the pool of chocolate syrup below got a few inches higher. Turbo was actually beginning to get worried that he’d have to find a whole new cavern.

On the last trip, he was relieved to find the flooding had stopped. The syrup was a good nine or ten feet deep, which was nothing compared to his new height of twenty-four feet tall. To the baby cy-bugs, though…

“ _Now_ do you get why I told you not to eat the house?” Turbo demanded, towering over his brats… _still_ stuck to the walls.

The babies all squeaked in unison, tiny legs waving in fear and sorrow. After ensuring there would be no repeats—both of eating the cavern _and_ eating his marshmallow nest—he pulled them all down and let them loose in their significantly smaller den area. They stayed quiet and hid among the huge pile of fluffy marshmallows, not wanting to rile their dad up again.

“This day was _definitely_ not turbo-tastic,” Turbo groaned, collapsing backward onto his nest in exhaustion.

.o.o.o.o.

Not long after the syrup flooding incident, Turbo happily came across one of his favorite aspects of Sugar Rush—hot chocolate springs. He accidentally discovered one while digging out their new den since the syrup refused to go down, making the main cavern floor unusable. Just the smell _alone_ was enough to make him smile.

He had fond memories of the hot chocolate springs in the castle…

Of course, this also let him perform a duty he had been unsure of how to do with his newfound kids.

“Bath time, brats!”

They didn’t know what ‘bath time’ was but just their daddy’s tone proved it would not be a pleasant experience. The baby cy-bugs all tried to scatter. Luckily, the new den was far smaller than the main cavern…making it easy for Turbo to snatch armfuls of his pesky offspring and head into the newly-dubbed bathroom. After that, all he did was chuck them into the spring and head back into the den to grab more of the squeaking brats.

The walls of the spring were too high for the babies to scale. Soaked in hot chocolate, their tiny legs couldn’t get a grip on the slippery fudge walls of their ‘tub’. It wasn’t long before every last wailing newborn was dropped into the warm liquid.

Then Turbo jumped in, sinking up to his nose in the stuff.

“Oh mod, I missed this!” he groaned, relaxing immediately.

The babies instantly latched onto whatever part of their parent they could grab, hoping he’d save them from the liquid hell they’d been tossed into. Turbo didn’t move a muscle to help them. He was too busy relaxing to care. Let them cry. They deserved it for flooding the main cavern, inadvertently _letting_ Turbo find this spring to begin with.

After a while, the wailing ceased. The baby cy-bugs got the message. Daddy wasn’t going to help them. They were stuck in this hot liquid stuff until daddy chose to get out. It didn’t look like he’d be leaving for a while though, sadly.

After the initial panic and fear had calmed, a few of the braver baby viruses dared to jump into the warm chocolate stuff. That’s when they realized something. It wasn’t as hot as they initially thought. If anything, it felt _good_. And it was _yummy_!

Maybe bathing wasn’t so bad after all?

.o.o.o.o.

Turbo admitted to falling asleep in the spring. It just felt _that_ good! And it’d been forever since he’d been in one. Could you really blame him?

“That was turbo-tastic!” he sighed, smiling happily.

Then he saw his brats and burst out laughing.

Most of them were floating on the surface, puffed up from drinking too much hot chocolate. The handful that weren’t floating had taken refuge on his back and neck, equally fat from the spring. Seems they turned bath time into meal time.

Not that Turbo particularly minded since they were all too tiny to possibly drain the spring. If they’d done _that_ …

Well, Turbo might have been inclined to disown the lot of them.

It took a few trips to transport the snoozing cy-bug babies from the spring to the marshmallow nest. Luckily, they were too fat and tired to put up much complaint. If anything, they were oddly quiet and peaceful.

Not that Turbo was complaining or anything.

He collapsed on the nest after fetching them all, warm and tired and not up to hunting for food on the surface right now. The soldier woman from Hero’s Duty hadn’t found him yet. His brats hadn’t caused any chaos since he’d found the spring. Things were looking pretty good.

Maybe being a dad wasn’t all bad after all…


	3. Loss...

Turbo groaned, rolling onto his side. He felt weirdly irritated for some odd reason. It felt like there was an itch under his armored body that he couldn’t scratch. Not to mention the weird buzzing in his head. It’s been driving him nuts since morning!

The brats weren’t helping either.

They were fine up until late morning, around the time Turbo judged the Roster Race to be starting up. No doubt the traitorous runts were having fun, racing around the track… Even the glitch… Free as could be…

_Knock it off! Feeling depressed won’t help, Turbo. You can’t race anymore… Get over it! You’ve got other things to do, like find out why you can’t relax!_

Anyhow, back to his own brats!

They had been fine up until late morning. Then they started getting riled up. The buzzing in his head had started not long after they all started acting up, skittering about wildly and crying out for no reason. Turbo had checked them all over and there was no sign of injury or discomfort. They were perfectly fine.

So why were they making such a fuss?

Turbo did everything in his power to calm them. He fetched food. He gave them a bath. He put them to bed. He even stuck them to the walls and threatened to leave them there if they didn’t pipe down. None of it worked. He eventually decided to just ignore them, dropping onto his marshmallow nest in the hopes of napping until nightfall.

The little cy-bugs crawled all over him, whimpering and chirping and squeaking and crying. Turbo hated not knowing what the heck they wanted. He couldn’t understand a thing they were trying to tell him.

Probably because he was a cybrid, not a full cy-bug.

Language barriers _sucked_ …

.o.o.o.o.

The brats seemed to finally pipe down when arcade hours rolled around. They stopped skittering and crying, though the depressed air about the tiny cy-bugs did little to reassure Turbo. Something was _seriously_ wrong.

But _what_?

The itch had dulled down, so he barely felt that anymore. The buzzing in his head was still there, but Turbo could easily ignore that. He’d figure out what was wrong with himself later.

His brats came first.

…If he could just figure out what was wrong…

.o.o.o.o.

“What are you doing, Turbelot?”

Yes, he’d named the brats. Somehow, he could tell each of them apart. How, he wasn’t sure. Smell, maybe? He sure didn’t notice anything significant smell-wise. Then again, he didn’t make it a habit to sniff everything on a daily basis to check for such sensory changes.

Some of his abilities as a cybrid were just plain strange…

Currently, Turbo was staring at one particularly chubby little cy-bug. He had come into the bathroom, hoping to be able to relax using the hot chocolate spring, when he saw the little runt in one corner of the room. It looked like the brat was stuck in the wall, tiny tails waving crazily and little legs clawing at the floor.

To be precise, he really _was_ stuck in the wall!

Turbo reached down, tugging the chubby baby free from the strange hole near the base of the bathroom wall. Turbelot, as this particular cy-bug had been named, was a deep chocolate color instead of its usual metallic black due to the overly-large amount of fudge it ate. Not to mention its obsession with drinking as much hot chocolate as physically possible during bath time. The ‘tub’ had been drained a few inches thanks to the chubby chocolate-muncher.

The cybrid frowned, glaring at the chubby baby dangling by its tails between two clawed fingers. Then Turbo looked down at the hole the chubby brat was trying to squeeze through. It was far too small for Turbo and obviously too small for the chubby Turbelot, but for any one of his other brats…

Turbo hadn’t smeared the bathroom walls with honey because the heat from the hot chocolate spring would cause it to melt off and cover the floor. He wasn’t interested in dancing around pools of honey to get a bath or relax, thank you. Aside from bathing and having a minor snack, the little cy-bugs hadn’t shown much interest in the bathroom.

Or so Turbo had thought…and was obviously wrong about.

Lowering himself until he was flat along the ground, he peered into the tiny hole with one eye. It went for a long ways before it bent upward, vanishing out of sight. The only thing above the den was…

Bolting upright, Turbo quickly headed to the main den. Sticking Turbelot to the wall as punishment, he checked and was relieved to find the rest of his…err, offspring…were snoozing soundly in the marshmallow nest. After all the crazed activity during the morning, they were pretty tuckered out.

All the better for Turbo, since he planned to leave the lair briefly.

_Note to self—block the hole in the bathroom once all runaway brats are located._

Spreading neon pink wings, Turbo launched himself into the air. The chocolate syrup flood had yet to recede, so the original massive lair was still unusable. Not that Turbo minded. Less space meant less for the brats to get into.

_Please, mod, let me find them all okay,_ he pleaded as he left the lair.

.o.o.o.o.

The buzzing seemed to be what led him to his brats. Somehow, it was like a homing beacon. The stronger the buzzing got, the closer he was to any stray cy-bug babies that had dared to leave the den.

Some of his abilities as a cybrid were just plain turbo-tastic!

It definitely made finding the runaway brats easier. In the span of an hour, he located thirty wayward runts. Each one found itself joining Turbelot on the honeyed wall in the den. During one of these return trips, he jammed a particularly thick jawbreaker into the hole as a warning to the rest of his…err, kids…that sneaking out wouldn’t be tolerated.

The message seemed to have worked, as none of the others so much as clawed at the bathroom wall during his return trips.

He cleared out the candy cane forest and the other sugar-based areas near the fudge mountains when the buzzing led him somewhere he was reluctant to go.

Royal Raceway…

Far too many memories of King Candy and the racer brats hit him. It nearly overwhelmed him, the nostalgia of racing and being loved and not having to hide for unplugging two games and—

_Stop, Turbo! Don’t think about that! That was a long time ago and isn’t your problem anymore! You’ve got bigger issues, like finding those brats! What if someone sees them?_

Shaking off the memories and nostalgic feel of being near a racetrack again, the cybrid reluctantly flew toward the massive track that was the scene of his many great feats as King Candy. It was also where he’d been unveiled by that pesky glitch and wound up losing everything. If only he’d been more thorough in getting that halitosis-ridden warthog to leave Sugar Rush!

Tearing his mind away from such thoughts, Turbo began his descent toward Royal Raceway. The buzzing was going haywire near the starting line. That little runt had to be some…where…?

_No…_

.o.o.o.o.

If there was one thing Turbo was scared of, it was the soldiers from Hero’s Duty. They were weaponry-trained, war-ready, and unafraid to kill potential threats. Did Turbo mention they had weapons?

Weapons built specifically to kill _cy-bugs_.

Sgt. Calhoun was at the top of that fear list for one reason—she was a frequent sight in Sugar Rush since the glitch was reinstated as its leader.

Turbo had been terrified of something like this happening since he woke up and realized his code had fused with the cy-bug’s and thus regenerated him as a cybrid. That fear had increased when he realized he was laying eggs. It increased again when the eggs hatched. It increased _again_ when the newborn brats proved to be master escape artists.

He’d been so careful. He took so many precautions—monitoring, putting honey on the walls, verbally _telling_ the brats that leaving the den was a big no-no… He was so sure that nothing bad could happen to his brats!

But this…

He could’ve never suspected that this would happen…

They were _babies_! Turbo knew the Hero’s Duty soldiers were programmed with very little mercy, but _this_? This was _too cruel_!

Turbo could only stare at the smoking hole in the ground of the track, just in front of one of the stands. A few soot-covered gears and broken machinery bits were nearby the scorched hole. A large dent in the front of the stand proved his worst fears.

One of his brats had been seen…

And by Sgt. Calhoun of Hero’s Duty…

The tiny cy-bug had stood no chance at all. One blast from the sergeant’s gun had been enough to blow the newborn to smithereens. So young… _Too young_ , even…

The sergeant hadn’t shown it even a hint of mercy.

Turbo wanted to cry. Break down right then and there. Rage and shout and scream himself hoarse. He _might’ve_ done it, too.

But the buzzing was pulling his attention elsewhere.

There were still a few more of his brats wandering around in Sugar Rush…and if Sgt. Calhoun had seen them…

_No! I won’t let that psycho woman kill them! Not MY brats!_

Turbo shot into the air, following the buzzing. He nearly dropped from the sky when a bolt of shock and fear hit him. The buzzing was leading him to the one place in Sugar Rush he wasn’t all that keen to visit again. The scene of his horrendous death…

Diet Cola Mountain.


	4. Threats Left And Right!

Flashbacks hit Turbo like a brick wall. Getting eaten by the cy-bug. Awakening to being a cybrid. Fighting Ralph on Diet Cola Mountain. The pillar of molten cola rising into the air. Going toward the light, even though he knew it meant instant death…

_Stop it, Turbo! You’re not dead! You’re alive right now! And you have brats to retrieve!_

As he got closer, his stomach dropped into his legs. The mountain was shaking. He could see small bursts of cola shooting from the cracks in the damaged mountain. The heavy scent of carbonated soft drink hit his nose.

Diet Cola Mountain was erupting.

But how? Who was dumb enough to set it off again?

…Was someone trying to kill his brats with it?!

That thought alone erased all his previous fear and hesitation. He shot toward the rumbling mountain, following that strange buzzing in his head. He eventually no longer needed the buzzing, though.

He could hear a pair of high-pitched squeaks coming from within the mountain. Two of his brats were in there! And they were terrified.

He shot in through the open top of the mountain. Huge pillars of mentos, having survived the first eruption, coated the walls and remaining ceiling. They were shaking, chunks falling into the pool of molten death below. Turbo dodged around them, following the squeaking.

He caught sight of the pair, huddled against the far wall, squeaking for their lives. One was bright pink with lighter pink accents and red eyes. The other had red and white stripes across its armor. Turbalina and Turbio.

Their squeaking grew louder when they saw him coming. Turbo landed quickly, gathering the two terrified babies up in his claws. They snuggled close to his chest and neck, crying loudly.

Turbo wondered briefly if cy-bugs could shed tears…

The buzzing in his head caught his attention. There was another brat in here? He turned, looking around. He couldn’t see anyone.

Then he looked at the pool of diet cola and realization hit like lightning.

“No…” he whispered.

The third brat was already dead. It had perished somehow in the molten cola. Its death had likely been fast…but excruciatingly painful. Just like how Turbo had felt when he died before…

He hugged the crying cy-bug babies even closer. In one day, he’d lost two of his brats. One to the soldier woman… One to Diet Cola Mountain…

“It’s okay. I’m here. Don’t cry. I’ve got you,” he said gently, trying to calm the pair of crying babies. “…Daddy’s here. Don’t cry. We’ll go home and be safe, okay? It’ll all be fine. Don’t worry. Daddy’s here. Daddy will protect you.”

_What the heck? Might as well submit to it. I’m a dad. Turbo-tastic…_

“Let’s get out of here, yeah?” Turbo asked.

The two bawling babies quieted, looking up at him. They trembled, nodding. They wanted away from this horrible place that ate their sibling.

“Yeah, I agree. Let’s get out of here,” Turbo said, turning so he could angle his flight out a little better.

He froze when he saw an all-too-familiar form on the other side of the pool.

It looked nearly identical to his own, cy-bug features and all. The only difference was the head, bald with tufts of silvery hair on the sides and a big, round nose. A small golden crown was perched atop the head.

_King Candy?! But how! He’s just fragments of incomplete code! He doesn’t have a real avatar of his own! He shouldn’t be here! That’s impossible!_

Deep beneath his confused and panicked thoughts, instinct reared its head.

_Danger. Rival cy-bug. Not part of colony. Enemy to offspring. Threat to territory. Danger._

Turbo stepped back, teeth bared and neon pink wings flared out. He held the two baby cy-bugs close to his chest, chest legs covering them as an added defense. He straightened up as tall as he could, extending his neck as an added height bonus. His yellow eyes were narrowed in rage. His posture sent an easy message.

Back off or else!

King Candy simply stared at him. The roaring of the mountain erupting around them deafened anything King Candy might’ve said. Turbo could barely see two small figures behind him. No doubt two of the Sugar Rush racers, the traitorous brats!

The important thing was that King Candy was either too shocked or too stupid to dare approach. His point clearly made, Turbo shot toward the opening above and flew away as fast as his wings could carry him. He didn’t dare look back.

_How is King Candy here? He’s not…complete…_

.o.o.o.o.

The buzzing was extremely faint in his head now. There was at least one wayward baby left to collect. As much as Turbo wanted to set out and finally _end_ this crazed baby hunt, he was sore all over from flying so fast and searching all over the map. He’d leave the last baby for later tonight or early tomorrow, parenting instincts be damned!

He needed sleep, if only for a few hours.

The babies seemed to recognize this, as their level of activity had lessened and they’d gone oddly quiet. That…or they realized two of their siblings were never coming back to the den. _Ever._

Turbo collapsed on his marshmallow nest. A few of the babies joined him, including the two he’d rescued from Diet Cola Mountain. Turbio crawled up and hid beneath Turbo’s chin while Turbalina snuggled beneath a wing case. Chubby Turbelot was buried amongst the marshmallows, barely visible.

The cybrid was out like a light…

.o.o.o.o.

Turbo awoke to explosions.

The whole lair was lit up. Turbo covered his eyes, praying that the cy-bug side didn’t gain control and fly toward the darned thing. The cavern was trembling, sloshing the syrup far below on the main cave floor. The light grew bigger.

Then Turbo figured out why the light was getting bigger—the entire ceiling was falling down!

The baby cy-bugs squeaked and squealed in terror, hiding beneath their parent. The handful that dared to skitter toward the light found themselves roughly yanked back and stuffed beneath Turbo’s bulk. He got to all four legs and hunkered down low over the eggs and baby cy-bugs, intent on defending them against whatever threat the falling ceiling hit him with.

“Hurry up! Get in there! Don’t leave a single gap unguarded! We can’t let these cy-bugs escape!”

_The soldier woman!_ Turbo realized in horror.

He’d been found…

Small, heavily-armored figures descended from the ceiling on hover boards, guns specially designed to kill cy-bugs held in their hands. At the head of the squad was a familiar blonde woman—Sgt. Calhoun. Turbo’s worst nightmare as of recently.

Images of the destroyed baby shot through his mind. Neon pink wings flared, Turbo felt his cy-bug code screaming for blood. Turbo was all too happy to let it out. Eyes turning brilliant blue, the cybrid surged forward with a scream of rage.

Everything was a blur. Claws swiped, bullets were fired, soldiers fell and rose and buzzed about like flies. The ceiling of the cavern was completely gone. He could hear screaming, human and cy-bug.

His brats! They were trying to kill his brats!

Turbo twisted, bloodlust taking over him. A sudden yank to his throat stopped him. He reached up, clawing at the nuisance. A cable? Idiots! He was part _cy-bug_! A stupid _cable_ wasn’t going to stop him!

His vision suddenly flashed white. Electricity? The cable was electrified. They had just shocked him with it. Turbo was aware that he was falling, crash landing in the chocolate syrup far below. His body was on fire, every nerve shot a hundredfold.

He wanted to close his eyes and sleep and never get up again…

Something smacked him on the head. Good thing he had a helmet on. Loud squeaks echoed in his ears. Turbo struggled to open his eyes. Mod, he was so _tired_!

It was Turbelot. The chubby cy-bug was suddenly a bit bigger than it was earlier in the day. It must’ve drunk from the hot chocolate spring again, the little bugger. A bunch of small cy-bug babies clung to its back, all looking at Turbo in terror.

Turbelot chattered fearfully, nudging Turbo’s face. The babies squeaked and wailed loudly. Turbo groaned, slowly lifting his head. Chocolate syrup dripped from his face and neck. He snorted, clearing his nose of the goopy sugar.

Loud screeches made him look up at the den. A huge explosion tore through it, flinging shattered cy-bug parts and broken eggs to the syrupy ground below. Turbo froze, shocked. Then anger hit him. Rising to his legs, wings flared and he pounced into the sky to retake his den and rescue his brats.

…or he _would’ve_ , if Turbelot hadn’t latched onto his leg and frighteningly chattered to him.

Just the raw fear in the squeaks of the cy-bugs below him made Turbo think twice. The buzzing in his head was growing fainter by the second. Any little ones and eggs still in the den above…were gone…

_Have to get out! Can’t let them kill these ones! Won’t let them kill my brats! Never! Mine!_

Turbo bared his teeth in rage, glowing yellow eyes narrowed hatefully at the ruined den entrance. Sgt. Calhoun had emerged, cleaning her gun. Spotting Turbo, she turned and pointed her gun at him. There wasn’t even the slightest sliver of regret or mercy in her eyes.

Turbo jumped back, dodging the bullet. Sgt. Calhoun was shouting at her men, firing more energy bullets at the cybrid. Turbo dodged them all, scooping up Turbelot and the newborns clinging to his back. Wings spread, Turbo shot through the opened ceiling and into the dark night sky above.

A shower of bullets chased him. Turbelot and the newborns squealed in terror. Turbo shushed them lightly, speeding away as fast as his wings could carry him.

_I’ll have to find a new place to hide…and fast!_ Turbo thought, teeth grit in frustration. _So not turbo-tastic…_


	5. Fun With Food

Turbo wasn’t sure how long he flew for. It had to be hours. There were no way his wings and back could be killing him after a mere few minutes of flying.

…Though, if you added in the fighting with Calhoun and her men…

Miserable squeaks came from his arms. Turbelot was whimpering. He was quickly joined by his smaller siblings. They all seemed to sense their daddy’s pain and they didn’t like it.

Turbo wondered if they even realized what exactly had happened back there.

_Who wouldn’t?_ Turbo thought darkly, eyes narrowed in rage. _What right did those guys have, barging into my den and killing my brats? I hadn’t even done anything yet! Better yet, how did they even find me to start with?!_

His back was screaming in pain, as was his neck. His body was stiff. His head hurt. He wanted to crash and take a long nap.

But not right now. Not with those soldiers hunting for him. And _definitely_ not in the open.

_Gotta find somewhere to land, if only for an hour or two,_ Turbo decided, scanning the landscape for caves or other thick cover that could hide his massive frame from view.

He eventually dropped down among a thicket of marshmallow fluff trees. He could see the beginnings of a tunnel entrance in the chocolaty ground near the base of one of the larger trees, probably dug out by gummy worms from the nearby Fudge Fields. It was small but a bit of extra digging could turn it into a safe, yet temporary, burrow for the night.

Morning had passed. Thank mod there were no racetracks nearby. He wasn’t interested in running into the traitorous sugary brats he once called his royal subjects. Not just _yet_ , anyway. Maybe once the Hero’s Duty soldiers left. _That_ would be a different story…

Setting his remaining kids on the ground, he set about digging into the burrow. It seemed empty of gummy worms…for the moment. If they dared return, he could easily turn them into an instant meal. At least they wouldn’t go hungry. Just as long as the darn worms didn’t try eating his brats!

He paused in his digging every now and then, checking on the babies. They seemed hesitant to stray too far from him suddenly. Turbelot kept herding the younger viruses back to the cybrid, squeaking nervously at them.

_Good,_ Turbo smirked. _At least I don’t have to worry about them running off while I’m working on keeping us alive._

.o.o.o.o.

It took a solid hour to turn the gummy worm tunnels into a proper burrow. It was nothing fancy, but it would be good enough to get them through the night.

It was late afternoon now, definitely past arcade hours. It was pretty quiet in the area. Turbo had to wonder how the Sugar Rush denizens were reacting to have the fudge mountains blown to smithereens by trigger-happy soldiers from another game. It was likely ordered by the glitch, mod curse her code. Did they believe him dead?

_Nah! That psycho soldier woman saw me escape,_ Turbo remembered, frowning. _That means they know I’m still here somewhere. I’m not in the clear yet. I’ve got to find a better place to hide out. I’m a sitting peep here!_

His gaze lazily turned to his brats. Their fear and tension seemed to have eased, allowing them to return to being their usual mischievous selves. Thankfully, they seemed more inclined to stay close to him. Thank mod for that. Turbo wasn’t interested in searching for anymore wayward cy-bug brats.

_Speaking of that,_ Turbo realized, lifting his head. _There’s still one more wandering around out there. I’ve got to find them soon…_

A shrill cry made Turbo jump. Snapping his head around, he burst out of the relaxing shade of the burrow and bolted for his offspring. The newborns scampered between his legs, squeaking and wailing in terror. Turbo lowered his long neck, razor-sharp teeth bared threateningly at the intruder.

It was the gummy worms that had built the tunnels. They froze in their tracks, lifting their heads in confusion. The sight of Turbo snarling at them brought about panic, the worms trying to wiggle away. The cybrid grinned, grabbing hold of two and pulling them aloft by their tails.

“Hey, you kids hungry?” Turbo asked.

The two captive worms struggled more, their companions making their escape without them. Turbelot gave a cry and pounced, latching onto the face of one of the gummy worms. It flailed wildly until Turbo proceeded to cut it in half, dropping the sliced worm to the ground. Both ends wiggled with reckless abandon.

The wiggling of the sliced worm instantly caused the rest of the bunch to pounce. They munched and played atop the dying worm. Turbo chuckled, taking the other gummy worm back to the burrow and proceeding to eat it himself. Seeing the baby cy-bugs playing with their food was amusing. They seemed to have no idea about the pain and misery they were causing that poor gummy worm…

_All cy-bugs do is eat, destroy, and multiply,_ Turbo reminded himself. _I guess it’s not a stretch to say they don’t get that their prey suffers as they’re eaten alive. But…they seem to understand my feelings. Is it because my code got fused with cy-bug coding? Or is it because I’m their parent?_

He bit into the now-dead gummy worm, chewing on it thoughtfully. His brats continued to play atop of their deceased food item/play thing. All was pretty peaceful.

.o.o.o.o.

Not long after their gummy worm feast, Turbo quickly shoved all the babies into the burrow before jamming himself inside. A low hum sounded from overhead.

Hoverboards…

The soldiers of Hero’s Duty were overhead, probably headed toward the castle.

_We’re not here, we’re not here, WE’RE NOT HERE!_ Turbo thought in an endless mantra, curling up even tighter over his kids.

The humming soon died off. They were gone.

Most of all, they hadn’t seen Turbo or the baby cy-bugs.

They were safe…

_Thank mod,_ Turbo thought as he released his brats once again. _Thank mod…_

.o.o.o.o.

Food wasn’t hard to find. It practically came to the mouth of the burrow, interested in the new scents. All Turbo had to do was wait until they dared get too close…then…

**SMASH!!**

A chocolate bunny was promptly flattened to the ground, its chocolaty shell breaking. Peanut butter oozed out of the cracks. It gave a choked squeal as it lay dying. Then it was still.

“Dinner is served, kiddos,” Turbo declared, withdrawing his claws and licking the excess peanut butter from them.

He’d successfully caught five chocolate bunnies that were stupid enough to set paw into the mouth of the burrow. All of them had met the same fate—they were quickly flattened beneath his claws and left to die. At least they got kinder deaths than the gummy worms. The bunnies were already dead by the time Turbo let his brats take a bite out of them.

Turbelot was the first to pounce on a chocolate bunny, claiming one as all his own.

_Greedy little thing. Maybe all that…pro-lean, was it? Maybe that stuff in the peanut butter will make him not so fat,_ Turbo thought with a devious snicker.

Turbio and Turbalina happily shared a bunny, leaving the other newborns to fight over the remaining three chocolate bunnies. Turbo didn’t indulge in one. Just the peanut butter stuck to his claws from smashing them was good enough for him at the moment.

As the oldest, Turbelot was easily in charge of the lot. Turbio and Turbalina were second oldest and tended to stay together since the Diet Cola Mountain incident that killed their brother. The rest were fresh newborns, the lowest in the pecking order, that usually fought each other.

Still, Turbo wasn’t interested in seeing his brats kill each other somehow. He broke up these fights with his twin tails, their neon pink glow easily distracting the baby cy-bugs and luring them into other tasks…like actually eating and getting along!

_Not as good as sticking them to a wall of honey, but it’ll do for now,_ Turbo decided.

.o.o.o.o.

“…Turbilly, what are you _doing_ in there?”

It had started out as a hunt for peeps. Turbo was hungry for marshmallows. Not the marshmallow fluff atop the trees around him. _Actual_ marshmallows!

Then he saw some peeps and decided he’d take those instead.

He’d only been gone a few minutes. It was barely even ten minutes of hunting! He’d caught a few peeps of various colors and came home, popping one into his mouth…

…and saw all of his brats surrounding this big pile of green jell-o.

Naturally, he wandered over to see what the big deal was. That’s when he saw it. One of the newborns was stuck inside the jell-o, wiggling tiny legs extremely slowly. There was a broken stick of fudge nearby. Turbo easily put two and two together.

“…You tried to dive off the tree and into the jell-o?” he guessed. “…You know you’ll be stuck in there until you can swim out…which will take a long time to do…”

A loud squeak made Turbo look up. _Another_ newborn had scaled the tree and proceeded to leap off a fudge branch, splashing down into the jell-o just a few inches above Turbilly. Turbo frowned, not amused.

“…Turbonnie? That’s _not_ helping your brother get out,” he deadpanned.

After a few minutes of munching on peeps and watching his two brats try valiantly to swim through the jell-o, failing miserably to do so, he finally reached in and plucked them both out. They were issuing choked squeaks, their mechanical internals likely unable to process the semi-liquid sugar the pair had inhaled during their ‘swim’.

“If you get sick, you’re staying outside,” Turbo commented, herding the lot of babies back into the temporary burrow. _Tomorrow… Tomorrow, I’ll find us a proper new den. Then I’ll find that last wayward brat. Then… Then I’ll deal with that stupid glitch! And find out why King Candy’s here!_

Once the babies had clambered into a pile, Turbo curled up around them. His massive frame easily blocked the entrance to the burrow, preventing anyone from noticing him in the darkness of the incoming night. It also served to keep his brats from daring to sneak out while he dozed. His tails illuminated the burrow in soft pink light.

Turbo yawned tiredly. _But that’s tomorrow. Tonight…I just want to sleep…_

And sleep, Turbo did.


	6. The New Den

_This looks good,_ Turbo decided. _Yeah… I think this could work just fine._

Early that morning, Turbo had stealthily left his makeshift den in the marshmallow fluff grove. He wanted to find a new place to make into a more permanent den. The sooner he found it, the better.

Thankfully, it hadn’t taken too terribly long to find such a place. He’d been lucky enough to actually find a fudge cavern a good distance away from the grove, hidden behind a thick cluster of cotton candy bushes. He nearly hadn’t noticed it if not for the sweet scent of honey. Upon going through the bushes and a long tunnel leading down, he’d arrived at a large cave.

Best of all? There was a large pool of honey right there.

_Looks like the honey wall punishment lives on,_ Turbo thought smugly. _Now to bring the brats here…without attracting too much attention…_

.o.o.o.o.

“…Turbelot, I wasn’t even gone two hours! _How_ did you manage to eat the whole _tree_?!”

Turbo returned to the makeshift burrow…only to get horrendously lost. For some weird reason, he couldn’t find the marshmallow fluff tree he distinctly remembered looming over the gummy worm burrow. Landing, he trudged about on foot in an effort to locate the tree on the off-chance he overlooked it from the air.

He figured out the issue the moment he found the den—the tree no longer existed.

The brats had gotten a touch bigger suddenly. Not by a lot, but it was quite obvious that they weren’t so tiny anymore. As for Turbelot…he was nearly as big as Turbo’s kart had been back in Turbo Time. And that was quite big compared to the other babies.

“…How am I going to stick you to the wall now?” Turbo grumbled, glaring down at the chubby cy-bug.

Turbelot shuffled his legs, looking ashamed. Most definitely _not_ because he’d eaten the tree or could now avoid the stick-to-honey-wall punishment. He was only ashamed that he got caught.

“Whatever,” Turbo growled, rubbing his temples. “I found us a new den. Let’s just hope we don’t get found this time.”

The babies gave tiny chirps and squeaks of joy. Turbelot, weirdly enough, gave a strange gear-grinding noise. Turbo actually stared at him in surprise at first before it hit him.

“…Oh, great. You guys hit puberty too.”

.o.o.o.o.

Transporting the smaller babies was quite easy. Though a good distance away, Turbo was quickly able to zip between there and the grove with two or three brats in hand per trip. They were even able to stay quiet and actually not wander off when left in the new den. Thank mod for that.

Turbelot was the problem.

Turbo found it a challenge to lug the chubby cy-bug’s sorry butt over to the new den. Turbelot didn’t look it, but he had obviously gained a few dozen pounds from his feast while Turbo had been den-hunting.

“That’s it! I’m teaching you to fly when we get there, mister!” Turbo growled.

Turbelot gave a small whimper as he was carried to the new den.

Once there, Turbo blocked the tunnel entrance with a large sugar wafer he found outside. Then he plopped down in front of it, just to ward the brats off from attempting to sneak away. A good nap was in order after hauling Turbelot’s chubby butt around!

.o.o.o.o.

Turbo awoke to the sounds of splashing. Frowning, he lifted his head to find the source. He was quite surprised by what he saw.

Somehow, Turbio had ended up in the middle of the honey pool. He was floating on a piece of wafer. That wasn’t the shocking part, though.

He was munching on a red gummy creature.

Turbo checked the wafer blocking the tunnel. He couldn’t see any holes in it. How in the world did Turbio get food in here? Was there a gummy worm lurking in here somewhere?

Another splash made him turn. A red gummy fish jumped out of the honey before splashing back down. A few more followed, leaping out of the honey and then diving back in. When Turbio finished his meal, he reached out and—surprisingly enough—managed to catch one. He began to chow down on that one, too.

“…Swedish fish,” Turbo chuckled, snatching one for himself and biting its head off. “At least we don’t have to hunt as much now. We’ve got a ready food source right here.”

The cybrid caught a few more, dropping them on the floor for the other brats to eat. He shooed Turbelot away since the chubby brat had eaten plenty that morning. He wasn’t stealing his smaller siblings’ food too!

Turbonnie suddenly began squeaking, waving a leg at Turbio. The other waved a leg back, chirping happily. Turbonnie’s cries grew more frantic, as did her waving.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Turbo asked, baffled. “He’s fine out the—”

SQUEAK!

Turbo’s head snapped up as the wafer piece suddenly flipped, sending Turbio in the water. Turbalina and Turbonnie both began crying loudly. Turbio surfaced, coughing and sputtering as he tried to paddle back to the fudge shore. Turbo sighed, not getting what the panic was.

Then he spotted the blue fin and large shadow just seconds before it sunk from sight, heading for Turbio.

Turbio gave a cry as he was yanked down beneath the sugary surface of the pool.

“TURBIO!”

Turbo bolted upright and lunged, plunging into the honey as he dug his claws around. He soon secured them around something solid and pulled up. Lo and behold, it was a half-drowned Turbio. The baby wiggled and cried, coated in honey.

Turbo’s joy turned to shock when he saw the gummy shark latched onto his lacy cuff.

“…Gah! Get off!” he shouted.

The cybrid stumbled backward out of the pool, only to yelp when he saw two more of the toothy sharks latched onto his legs. A fourth had snapped onto the end of one of his tails. None of them seemed to want to let go.

“Get off! Get off! Get off!” Turbo shouted, shaking his arm and legs.

He whipped his tails about until that one finally let go, dropping onto the fudge ground. The one on his cuff let go after bashing it a few times on the sugar wafer. He later realized he actually managed to step on the ones attached to his legs, tearing them off easily.

“Turbio! Are you okay?” he asked, turning his attention back to the cy-bug baby.

Turbio let out a series of choked squeaks and chirps, his systems clogged with honey. He almost sounded like he was sobbing. Turbo felt his heart break as he gingerly comforted the traumatized cy-bug.

“Shush, you’re fine. Daddy’s here,” he reassured. “Those mean gummy sharks won’t hurt you anymore. Actually, they’ll serve as lunch…now…?”

Turbo had turned in order to give the sharks a cool but dramatic glare…for effect, of course. Sadly, none of them were there. All four had mysteriously gone missing.

BURP!

Turbo whipped around to see Turbelot, who had gained quite a bit of blue on his back. He even had a gummy-looking dorsal fin sticking up from it now. Little pectoral fins stuck out from his sides, too. He looked quite hilarious.

Turbo frowned, not amused. “…Is there anything you _won’t_ eat?”

Turbelot merely gave a toothy grin and patted his tummy with a chest-leg.

.o.o.o.o.

After the so-called “gummy shark attack” as Turbo deemed it, the cybrid ruled out letting the brats swim in the honey pool. He dug even further into the cavern to make more room, hoping to tempt the brats into not going near the honey pool again…ever…

He wound up splashing into an underground river of strawberry milk. To say the least, the brats had never been happier. Paranoia over having any of them swept away by the current caused Turbo to dig out an impromptu pit, letting the milk spill into it until he had a lake. Then he covered up the river entrance and tossed his nosy brats into the milk lake to deter them from trying to dig out the river again.

“That’ll keep you guys occupied for a bit,” Turbo chuckled, pulling aside the sugar wafer and heading out into the tunnel.

He made sure to block off the honey pool before he left. He stabbed sticks of sharp-smelling peppermint into the ground around the pool as a makeshift fence. He was sorely tempted to make a BEWARE OF SHARKS sign, but ran out of peppermint before he could try it.

“All this parent stuff is making me creative,” Turbo commented as he headed down the tunnel. “At least I’m not going stir-crazy yet.”

Once he left the tunnel, he made sure the cotton candy bushes were perfectly arranged so as not to seem suspicious. Then he took to the sky, following the buzzing in his head that would lead him to his last wayward brat. Now that he had a more permanent den again, he could afford to finally collect the baby cy-bug.

_At least they’re still alive,_ he thought in relief.

His joy then shriveled up and died. Oh, he knew exactly where he was headed. No way. His stupid brat wouldn’t have gone _there_ of all places, right? No, they couldn’t be that stupid!

…Apparently, they _were_ that stupid…

Turbo swallowed back his dread. It was early morning now, as he had been searching most of the night for the brat. Arcade hours would begin shortly. The Hero’s Duty soldiers wouldn’t—no, _couldn’t_ —be here right now. It was impossible. They had to be in their own game, preparing for when the gamers would arrive. They couldn’t afford to get unplugged simply because they wanted to kill him.

_Yeah. That’s right, Turbo. You’re safe right now. The psycho soldier woman can’t possibly be here now, not this close to arcade hours beginning. You’re okay,_ Turbo reassured himself. _Just find your brat, grab them, and get out. It’s that simple. What could go wrong?_

Shrill screams sounded from below. Turbo groaned, slapping his face with a clawed hand before looking down. Indeed, he was just above Royal Raceway. For some mod forsaken reason, the sugary racer brats were still in the square in front of their houses. Shouldn’t they be on the track right now? The Roster Race was going to be delayed big time, putting them in danger of unplugging when arcade hours came.

Sadly, the brats were indeed present in the square. The same square a certain cy-bug baby was in. A certain cy-bug baby that…wasn’t that much of a baby anymore. It was as big as a house now! It was chocolate brown with pink gumdrop-like growths on its back. Pink stripes ran up its legs and its tails were neon pink in color.

Turbo groaned before gritting his teeth in frustration. Curse his luck! Looks like he might have to deal with the racers sooner than he would’ve liked…

“Turbette!” he called loudly, hoping maybe he could lure his brat away from the screaming kids without incident. “Turbette!”

No luck. The house-sized cy-bug either couldn’t hear him…or was ignoring him.

“Turbette! Get back here, brat!” he shouted angrily.

Still no reaction. Yep, Turbette seemed to be ignoring him. Just how stupid could she be?

“You want to play this game, Turbette? Fine, Daddy will play…and _win_!”

Turbo dove straight for the square, fear forgotten. He was done running and hiding and being scared. It was time for him to be back where he belonged—in charge! And no sugary racers were going to stop him from getting his brat back!


End file.
